Quiet
by National Bitch
Summary: They're quiet because he can't talk, and because she doesn't like too. Pressida. Post-rebellion.


Quiet

Summary: They're quiet because he can't talk, and because she doesn't like too. Pressida. Post-rebellion.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games trilogy, nor the characters. I am not Suzanne Collins, Natalie Dormer (sigh) or Elden Hensen.

_'Here's my heart and here's my mouth and I can't help if things don't come out.'_

She doesn't like the silence of the van. But she gets used too it. She has too. She has to constantly remind herself that it's useless striking up conversation because he'll have to use sign language and she won't be able to look because she has to concentrate on the road. She tries fiddling with the radio but it's old and she nearly kills them both because she realises too late that she really can't multitask, especially when driving.

He hates the silence of the van, because there's nothing he can do it to change it. He can't start talking to her, he can't even laugh and tease her when they nearly career off the road because she's trying to find music to lighten the mood. He wants too. But the Capitol took his tongue and he's never going to get that back. He can't see a bright-side, apart from the fact that Cressida seems to readily accept the silence. She grunts as she guns the engine, and he manages a smile. Wishing she would just talk and he could listen. He had become a good listener over the years.

When they reach their destination (District Nine), it's getting dark and it's nearly freezing, when they get out the van, scoping out their surroundings. She sticks directly by his side as they walk, and he doesn't know if she's cold or scared of the dark. He doesn't mind, she doesn't even realise she's doing it. They scurry back to their van after they're (Cressida is) startled by a bark of a dog. They could stay in Victors Village, but they have sleeping bags in the van. They sit in their sleeping bags, the back doors of the van open, with mugs of green tea clasped in their hands. She claims it's healthy and cleansing and he pulls a face after a few sips, but drinks it anyway. She tells stories, maybe because she's tired or because she forgot he can't answer. Stupid stories. About her brother, about her parents (though those ones seemed to have a melancholy undertone too them.) He listens and when she's looking, he signs out a quick story about Castor. He's not exactly mourning for his brother anymore, but he tries to not think about it. The story makes him want to laugh. So he gives the closest he can – a gurgle. Albeit, a happy sounding gurgle. She chokes on her tea, because she wasn't expecting it. But she laughs too. She had liked Castor. But she had mourned for Messalla, and when she thinks of the dark boy with the piercings, she looks ten years older and tired and lost. She loved him like a brother, even more than she had loved her own. Pollux pats her shoulder, because he has nothing to say – can say. She rests her head on his shoulder, her sigh is bitter. She's always been able to separate herself from her emotions, because it's her job. And suddenly, they come crashing down in a tidal wave on his shoulder. She apologises for getting his shirt wet and he tilts her head up, his eyes soft and he shakes his head. She didn't have to be sorry. Her smile is still apologetic.

The next few moments are a blur, they're kissing (but she's finds it awkward and he can tell) and stripping and it's all going so fast. She doesn't realise what's happening until she's pinned underneath him down to her underwear. _Pity sex_. That's what it was. But she takes it anyway. He's not really focused on kissing, understandably, but he bites and trails his hands and he makes her pant, she doesn't regret a thing because he makes her feel so good and she hasn't felt euphoria like this in a long time.

She's on top of him when she wakes up, and at first, she struggles to get off, because evidently nothing wakes up Pollux. But she gives in, because it's peaceful and the whole thing gave her more than one release. When he wakes up, they're still tangled in a mess of flesh and unzipped sleeping bags.

They don't mention it explicitly, but the air around them has changed. They spend two days in Nine, filming and she talks to residents, how they're finding it to rebuild their lives. He hovers close, and when she records audio, he's got a hand on her hip or when he's using his camera, he feels her hand slip over his and squeeze. She never says I Love You, so he never gets the chance to nod and confirm the mutuality. But they're both wondering it, so they just assume. They return to district twelve after more travelling and filming. And Haymitch looks at Pollux funny and Katniss and Johanna are grinning ear to ear at her – because God it is so noticeable to everyone else. It's funny. They get teased but they just smile coyly at each-other and don't breathe a word.


End file.
